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Two rough tops spit roasted me in an adult video booth.

The roofer will be here Monday,' he explained, while they ran from room to room.

A larger bucket was available for a particularly troublesome flow, then they started emptying the first of the buckets and saucepans put down. It was a continuous battle to keep ahead of the flow. A small Tupperware container was full, and Bridget tipped it into the bucket she used, then quickly went to the bathroom to empty it.

Bridget abandoned her heels, to run around in bare feet, watching out for nails in the floorboards. She found one, and Sebastian took hold of her after following a trail of blood.

In the bathroom he sat her on a trendy travel trunk, covered with labels from the past, for exotic overseas countries and cities, though now it held the mundane, spare towels.

'I should of put something down over the floorboards, at least newspapers. There aren't any sensible shoes for you to wear on small feet. Let me have a look. Don't squirm, girl,' he told her.

She was trying to keep her legs together, as he pulled her feet up, to look at her soles. He may have mastered her, but old habits die hard. If anyone else called her girl it would have riled, but she calmly accepted it. After calling him master what did she expect? Fortunately the fantasy had subsided, as the rain seemed to be doing.

'I'll have to bathe your dirty feet, to prevent infection,' he told her.

'Damn! The lights! Sit there, don't move,' he ordered.

Sounds in the dark were amplified, becoming clearer, seemingly moving in on her as she adjusted to the inky blackness. An insistent drip seemed to be moving closer and closer, sounding like footsteps. Letting out a deep sigh, she realised she'd been holding her breath. At last she could breath normally, on seeing a flickering candle, and hearing him walking along the corridor.

Back with candles and a bowl of hot water, he cleaned her feet, then applied some antiseptic ointment to the cut. A dressing went on, then a bandage to make sure she didn't walk it off.

'Best not walk in heels, and my slippers are far too big for you,' he said, and picked her up.

'Where did you want to go?' he asked, while carrying her along the corridor.

'Barbados is nice this time of year,' she said, sounding serious.

'Tomorrow, after a good night of sleep,' he admonished her.

'Oh! The spare bed is soaked,' he announced, and they saw that a bucket had tipped over.

Had he done that on purpose? She really hoped this wasn't a ploy, but of course it wasn't his style, as he was used to taking what he wanted. Just as he had done to her, a simple slave girl. He walked back along the corridor into the master bedroom, and gently laid her on his bed.

'This will have to do, I can't send you back to the store damaged, I won't get a full refund,' he said.

Not knowing what to say, she did the sensible thing for a change and kept quiet. Her heart was racing, wondering what he was going to do with her, now he had her on his bed. She looked at him with big round eyes, not scared, it was from the mystery and wonder, over how this had happened.

It was a joke that everything in the antique store was for sale, yet somehow he ended up paying an enormous amount for her on his credit card. They couldn't pay it back, so he took her home, with her bought and paid for. He hadn't treated her like a whore, yet a slave fantasy she enjoyed was triggered, and that's when the trouble began.

He'd bought her, making her a slave, with him being the master. He mastered her by taking her, confirming her position as his slave. It wasn't as simple as that, or at least it felt far more complex and difficult to get out of. How she was going to get away from him, she had no idea, as he had a knack for getting what he wanted. At the moment it was her.

'How's the foot?' he asked.

Bridget cleared her throat, and murmured, 'Okay, thank you, master.'

The words slipped from her throat uncensored.

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